


Habits (Spend my days locked in a haze, trying to forget you babe)

by merpwrites



Series: Habits/Text to Cope [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angsty sadness, Implied Casual Sex, Lots of drinking, M/M, james is sad so we are all sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:50:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4786298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merpwrites/pseuds/merpwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No, truly, James couldn't remember the last time he was sober, and that was not just the alcohol and lack of sleep talking, because he distinctly did remember Bruce telling him before he left the bar a couple hours - or was it days? - ago to stop drinking and go home. And James agreed with him and they got all the way to Bruce's stop before James started /thinking/ again and /oh no that will not do/ and he got off at the next stop and stumbled his way into another bar so that more attractive strangers could buy him drinks.</p>
<p>(This is the James POV of this story. A companion piece in Adam's POV is "Text to Cope", and they can be read in either order).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Habits (Spend my days locked in a haze, trying to forget you babe)

**Author's Note:**

> This is written in James' POV and was originally a prompt fill. The prompt was Killems based off of the song "Habits" by Tove Lo. 
> 
> Later, I wrote a companion piece Adam's POV. That is called "Text to Cope". You can read them in either order.
> 
> Also, please note that Funhaus is not a thing in this AU. They're all friends but they don't all work together and that is very relevant to the comprehension of some of the events of this story.
> 
> Enjoy!

3:18 AM.

It took James entirely too long to focus well enough at the red digital clock at the front of the subway car. James thought it was because the subway car was entirely too bright for that time of night – or would it be considered morning? But in all reality it was because James was too drunk off his ass to function, really, and it was a miracle (and a couple of really nice strangers) that James was sitting on the train and not face-first in his own vomit somewhere.

No, truly, James couldn’t remember the last time he was sober, and that was _not_ just the alcohol and lack of sleep talking, because he distinctly  _did_ remember Bruce telling him before he left the bar a couple hours – or was it a couple days? – ago to stop fucking drinking and go the fuck home because if he didn’t have alcohol poisoning already then he definitely  _will_. And James agreed with him and they got all the way to Bruce’s subway stop before James started  _thinking_ again and  _oh no that will not do_  and he got off at the next stop and stumbled his way into another bar so that another batch of attractive strangers could buy him drinks.

But now James was  _actually_ going home, and by home he meant his apartment, not  _home_ , because what he considered for  _years_  now as his home is no longer his home so he’s resigned to have to go to his apartment and pass out in his cold and empty bed for a few hours before getting up and doing it all again.

The worst part about it, in James’ opinion, was how much he  _cared_.

James prided himself on his ability to  _not_  care. He was the king of turning any situation into a joke. He took everything in stride, let him wash right over him and he kept on going. So why did he care? Why did it hurt  _so much_ that even when he’s nearly black-out drunk and has the tongue of another nameless face shoved down his throat he keeps  _thinking_ about him? Thinking about how his beard scratched at his chin and how his eyes were so deep and dark and how broad his shoulders were and how soft his hands were when they were on James and how he always tasted like coffee and mint.

Even now, with James trying to drown himself in the fluorescent lights of the subway car and the urine-and-alcohol stench permeating the air (James isn’t sure how much of it is the subway and how much is him) all he could think about is  _him_.

James slammed his fists against the plastic seat of the subway and _screamed_ , and he was damn lucky it was 3:24 AM and no one was in the car with him because if he wasn’t already primed to get the cops called on him for drunk and disorderly conduct, the fact that he just damaged public property would’ve cost him a pretty penny. Again, this would be if James actually cared about his health and well-being but at the current moment in time he could not give a rat’s ass about his health and well-being  _fuck_  his health and well-being James wanted to drown himself in alcohol until he could forget it all.

James doesn’t really remember much after that, but somehow he woke up hours later, safe and sound and fully clothed in his bed with his skull pounding like a kick drum. James rolled out of bed and started stripping, padding into the bathroom that smelled a little too strongly of Clorox for his liking and stumbled straight into the shower, not even bothering with the lights. The water was just barely this side of too cold and James reveled in the way that it soothed the ache in his skull and his bones. He washed lazily, not looking at what he was doing – James told himself that it was because his eyes hurt too much to open them fully but really it was because he knew what his body looked like. Thin and covered in mottled bruises and healing scratches from the countless nights (thirty-two nights) of trying to forget the way he felt, the way he touched James, the way he held James like James was something precious, special, and all of those wonderful words and praises he would whisper across James’ skin.

No, James didn’t think he could look at himself – at what he’d become – if he tried.

James decided that today was a lazy day after he discovered that his phone was A) nearly dead and B) telling him it was a Sunday.

And by lazy day that meant that James would drink on the couch instead of dragging himself downtown to go to a bar.

And drink he did. James wasn’t sure how many beers he downed while he sat and played Civilization (badly due to his intoxication) but he certainly was surprised at how low the sun was in the sky outside his window when his focus was interrupted by a knock on his door. James would call it a knock but it really was an insistent pounding and really, that  _should_  have been concerning for James but in all actuality James couldn’t process the difference enough to be alarmed by it.

What he was alarmed by, however, was a furious-looking Lawrence Sonntag standing on the other side of his door when he finally reached it.

“Where the  _hell_  have you been, James?” Lawrence practically screeched, storming past James and into the apartment (not even James’ conscious mind could be coerced into calling it his  _home_  because you can’t call something your home if it isn’t). James pressed the door shut slowly, with his whole body, and yeah, maybe he told himself it was to let Lawrence continue shouting so that they could have a civil conversation but it really was because James didn’t have the full coordination to shut the door any other way.

Maybe James should’ve been concerned about that realization.

But he wasn’t, and by the time he had shut the door and turned to face Lawrence, the other man was done shouting and instead cracking open a beer and looking intently at his phone – no, wait, that was  _James’_  phone, how did he get that?

“How’d – how’d you get my phone?” James slurred, and he was honestly a little proud of himself about how well he sounded in his own ears – James mentally patted himself on the back at the fact that he was most definitely comprehensible.

Lawrence set the phone down on the countertop and sighed, “It was sitting right next to the beer, James. Do you realize how many missed calls and unanswered texts you have? I thought you were dead or something until Bruce said he was with you yesterday. Are you ignoring us?”

“No I’m – well, I’m just – Bruce came over yesterday and – he yelled at me and I – told him, what I’m gonna tell you. Not gonna talk to you unless we’re drinking.”

“Well, lucky for you, I’ve got this beer in my hand and I’m drinking out of it. So talk, James. What the fuck are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

Lawrence sighed again and leaned against the counter, “You’re ignoring your friends, shutting yourself in, when was the last time you actually went to work? Or to the gym? Or ate something decent and substantial? Listen, I know you and Adam –“

“ _Don’t say that name!_ ” James roared, lurching forward and pointing at Lawrence with the neck of his beer bottle. Lawrence lifted his hands in surrender.

“James, I understand you’re upset, but you two can’t just drown yourselves in alcohol and sulk because you’re not in a relationship anymore.” Lawrence said calmly, stepping towards James.

“No!” James spit out, and he flung his arms out wide for emphasis. His beer bottle slipped from his fingers and smashed against the wall with the force of his gesture, and although Lawrence flinched back and let out a string of expletives, James didn’t even flinch.

Lawrence would say later that James was too far gone, too drunk to register it.

James knew that it was because a part of him didn’t care if he got hurt. 

“No, you don’t  _get it_ , Lawrence! He – he  _left_ me! He left me – left me because I’m not  _good_ enough! That  _must_ be it! I’m not good enough! I – why wasn’t I good enough? I can’t stop  _thinking_ about him, I - no matter who I sleep with or how much I drink I can’t stop thinking about him and everything reminds me of him and you remind me of him and Bruce reminds me of him and the guy that I gave a blowjob to in some shitty bar bathroom reminded me of him and  _everything_ reminds me of him because I – I still love the stupid bastard and he  _left_ because I guess he didn’t feel the same and this is the only thing I  _can_ do! When I’m not drunk I’m – I’m crying my eyes out and it’s been thirty-two days! I can’t – I can’t just sit around but I can’t function without him so this – this is what I deserve.”

James had started his rant screaming but by the end he was whispering and hiccupping and generally spending more of his energy holding back his tears than projecting his voice.

Lawrence stood there for a moment, at a loss for words, taking in James’ sagging shoulders and too-loose shirt and the dark bags under his eyes before setting his (untouched) beer on the counter and taking the few cautious steps forward to close the gap between him and James. Lawrence bundled James up into his arms, one around his waist and the other cradling back of his head, bringing him in.

James broke. The dam broke and suddenly James was clinging to Lawrence for dear life, staining the man’s shirt with his tears.

“James, James, alright, come on, let’s get you sitting down.” Lawrence said, walking backwards toward the sorry excuse for a couch and dropping James down onto it. Lawrence then picked up James’ phone and a roll of paper towels and carried them back. James grabbed the paper towels with shaky hands, ripping off a piece and wiping at his face furiously.

“Take a look at your phone.” Lawrence waved the phone in front of James’ face before placing it forcibly into his hands.

James snapped his head up, training red and puffy eyes on the other man, “What?”

“I think you need to take a look at your phone, James, and read your messages. Trust me on this one.” Lawrence insisted.

James blinked through the residual tears down at his phone and unlocked it. Staring up at him was Adam’s text thread.

James wasn’t quite sure  _why_  it was Adam’s texts that popped up first (it was Lawrence’s doing) but as much as he wanted to chuck the phone across the room (preferably at Lawrence), he couldn’t pull his eyes away.

**_Adam:_** _I’m so sorry_  
_**Adam:** Please talk to me_  
 _**Adam:** I made a mistake_  
 _**Adam:** I was angry and I took it out on you I’m sorry I didn’t mean it_  
 _**Adam:** James_  
 _**Adam:** James_  
 _**Adam:** James_  
 _**Adam:** James_  
 _**Adam:** James_  
 _**Adam:**  I’m so sorry, baby, I love you and I can’t believe I did that_  
 _**Adam:**  Please answer me, I really want to talk to you. Work this out._  
 _**Adam:** Even if you don’t want to get back together, I don’t want to end us like this_  
 _**Adam:** James_  
 _**Adam:** James_  
 _**Adam:** I understand you’re upset_  
 _**Adam:** I can’t sleep without you_  
 _**Adam:** James_  
 _**Adam:** James I’m so sorry I need you baby please_  
 _**Adam:** If you don’t want to talk to me yet, fine_  
 _**Adam:** James_  
 _**Adam:** James_  
 _**Adam:** James_  
 _**Adam:** James please, it’s been three weeks_  
 _**Adam:** James just text someone, okay? You’ve dropped off the grid, everyone’s worried. I’m worried._  
 _**Adam:**  Bruce told me you answered him finally_  
 _**Adam:** I cried. I thought something terrible may have happened._  
 _**Adam:** I still would like to talk, to apologize properly, to try to fix this_  
 _**Adam:** I know I fucked up but James, please, I need you, I love you._  
 _**Adam:** Give me a call when you’re ready to talk_  
 _**Adam:** I miss you so much._

5:32 PM.

It took James entirely too long to comprehend the texts, and even longer to see the timestamp on the last two. 5:32 PM. Less than an hour ago. James thought it was because of the residual alcohol in his system. But in all reality it was because the tears welling up in his eyes and spilling onto his cheeks were making his vision swim.

Realistically, James knew that Lawrence’s appearance was no coincidence, now, but he was too busy calling Adam and pressing the phone to his ear and reveling in the scratchy “ _Hello? James? Is that you?”_ that came almost instantaneously to bother with being mad at him for it. Besides, Lawrence was smiling to himself as he texted the others about how successful his trip to James’ had been, showing himself out the door to give James his privacy. (Lawrence would wait downstairs in the lobby to make sure that James made it to Adam okay, because Lawrence knew that as soon as James’ call came in, Adam would be jumping in his car to come and get him).

“I’m drunk.” James said, because it was the only thing he  _could_  say, no other words were coming to him, no matter how hard he tried to think of some.

_“Okay, baby, that’s okay, can you tell me where you are?”_ James heard Adam say, voice cracking and catching and breaking and  _was he crying, too? Adam never cries. Why is Adam crying? Wait, what did he ask? I can’t remember –_

“I’m drunk and I want to come home.”

And when not ten minutes later Adam was bursting into James’ apartment and cradling James in his arms and kissing James with his soft lips and rough beard and filling James’ senses with the taste of coffee and alcohol, well, James thought that maybe the world wasn’t so shitty after all.

**Author's Note:**

> (Crossposted from tumblr)  
> merpwrites.tumblr.com


End file.
